


Infinitely

by Fantau



Series: MariChat May! [4]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Marichat May, ahh fuck i just want him to be happy, terrible use of shakespear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 00:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantau/pseuds/Fantau
Summary: MariChat MayDay 4: “Romeo… Romeo….”Words: 699





	Infinitely

Marinette paces the room, eyes locked on a densely filled packet of paper. In her other hand is a picture of Adrien Agreste. 

She has never been a very good actor, and memorizing script isn't a popular pastime of hers, but the chance to play Juliet to Adrien’s Romeo was too great a chance to pass up.

It's not anything heavy, no kissing scene. Just the balcony scene. If Marinette or Meylen doesn't pull through and nail the role of Juliette she would have to spend most of the class period watching Chloe lament about her love to Adrien.

It would make her sick, and be completely disheartening to hear Adrien reply with equally love struck fervor. Scripted or no.

It wasn’t guaranteed that Adrien would get the part really, but it was most likely going to be him, and just about everyone knew it. He could act, he was a model, he acted every time he does a photoshoot. Plus, Chloe would likely try and do something to get him into the part if he somehow didn't make it. 

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?”

“I’m not sure.” Marinette jumps at the voice from her window, and turns around to face a very smug looking Chat Noir. “Can I take a message?” he saunters forward, head inclined with both hands behind his back. Looking all of the content cat he’s supposed to be. 

“You aren't my Romeo?” Marinette teases, punching the cat in the shoulder when he sidles up to her.

“Sorry Princess, I can’t tell you that. Secret identity and all.” he jokes.

“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?” she stumbles around her lines as Chat examines her and grins wide at her effort.

“By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,  
Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.” Chat’s stopped grinning, and instead looks upset. Marinette’s eyebrows scrunch up and she purses her lips. One hand lifts almost unconsciously and traces the edge of his mask with her thumb.

If only he knew.

“My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague?”

“Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.” he leans into her hand and he presses his lips to her thumb. But Marinette can see his calm start crumbling. His eyebrows push together, his ears pressed flat to his hair.

“Kitty? What's wrong?” she asks. Some days Chat comes in all guts and glory but there are other quieter days where he slinks in and can't seem to use words, the days where he just wants to watch a movie and be close to her.

“I want to tell you so badly.” he whimpers and pushes his cheek into her hand. “And I almost have but… god. You’d hate me. A- and you-”

“Hey.” she interrupts. “Anyone could be under that mask, I could never hate my kitty.”

“What if it wasn’t your kitty? What if i'm completely different? What if I’m quiet and shy and cowardly and what if you can barely face me?” he’s holding her hand in his, keeping it pressed to his cheek. Pretty much begging her to keep him close. Keep him with her. ‘I want to stay.’ it pleads. ‘Please don't leave me.’

Marinette drops the script and the picture -school play and Adrien Agreste be damned- and steps over it to press her forehead to Chat’s. She has to bring his head down a bit, causing him to hunch and her to press up on her toes but she hopes the effect is understood. 

“Never.” she insists.

“Never?” He’s shaking, wrapping his spare arm around her hip, ignoring the tears rolling down his face. It’s a heavy question, a loaded gun pointing at him or her or both of them. Her other hand holds his shoulder, rubbing her thumb in what she hopes are relaxing circles but with the fluttering of her heard they could very well be too frantic.

“Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, also on my tumblr (fantau) and my ff.net (laputatiana)


End file.
